


Playing with Fire

by Terminallydepraved



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - 1920s, Blood, Hand Jobs, M/M, Prohibition AU, Violence, hisoka being hisoka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 22:10:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4238394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chrollo came to the bar for a drink and some solitude and was instead met with a handsome stalker. Sometimes scotch isn't the only thing that burns.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing with Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Trying something new here since I'm a history major and a fanatic for anything to do with the 1920s. This universe is a bit vague still, I haven't decided whether or not I want them to still have nen powers so feel free to interpret it however. I kinda just wanted to put Hisoka in a rat pack suit. Enjoy.

The illegal booze burned like the fire water it was as he sipped it in his seat, the weight of the world easing off his shoulders for the first time in far too long. The city was buzzing, veritably throbbing under the pressure of the factions settling in for the underground auction. It made it hard to sneak away and drink, to just get away from the titles and courtesy and fear-mongering that seemed endemic to the festivities. 

Chrollo listened to the sound of the singer crooning in the corner and let out a breath, grateful to finally be away from his suddenly over-bearing organization members. It hadn’t been easy to sneak off, but in the confusion of managing the newest rum spoils and making the appropriate bribes to keep it off record, he had found an opening and snatched it up. 

The book he had brought with him sat open on the bar, carefully positioned so as to avoid the condensation rings and wood polish spots speckling the worn surface. It was nice, he thought, to be able to read in public without overt scrutiny. Well, not counting the set of eyes that he had felt on him for nearly a fortnight. He could feel them fixed on his shoulders, originating somewhere near the stage. He was an old hand at assassination attempts, having been a prominent target for many a discontent customer, victim, or business rival. There was something different about the feeling he got from the one stalking him though. Different enough that he didn’t pay it much mind.

“My my, you are far too attractive to be drinking alone. Would you mind if I joined you and we be attractive together?”

Chrollo looked up from his book and into the face of the man who had been following him for the past few weeks. “That depends. Who’s asking, if I may be so bold?” He didn’t honestly expect an honest answer.

He wasn’t disappointed. The red haired man merely smiled and seated himself at his side, waving down the bartender for another round. “I think I’d rather keep the mystery alive, if it’s all the same to you. You can just call me yours.” The smile was winsome and rather charming, even if the man sporting it was anything but a harmless flirt.

Humming noncommittally, Chrollo sipped at the new drink that had been set in front of him. It was smooth, full. Definitely the higher end bottles only reserved for the clients with real pull. Chrollo tended to drink with a low profile, meaning the stranger was the one deemed important enough to pull out all of the stops. He half wondered if the bottle came from one of his own shipments. Either way, the man’s status was interesting. Wasn’t easy to remain unknown for long once someone started making waves in staked territory.

“Do you know who I am then?”

A shoulder brushed his and the warmth was rather pleasant in the drafty speakeasy. It could be hard heating these basement ones, especially as the seasons began to change and the chill started to seep through the cracks in the stone. 

“But of course,” the man answered, taking a pull of his own bootlegged whiskey. “You’re the infamous boss of the Spiders. I’m a fan.” 

Chrollo arched an eyebrow and turned in his seat to face the man. He was a tall individual, well dressed and immaculate. His brilliant crimson hair was smoothed back and from his ears dangled bright silver earrings. Not a person one would be soon to forget, or likely to go unseen and unknown in a rather colorless city. 

“Now I think that’s dangerous information, sir. Is it safe to say that you’re the one who’s been following me the past few weeks?” Chrollo posed, chin resting on his fist. 

“I think anything involving you isn’t very safe, but don’t worry.” The man took another sip and pressed his thigh to Chrollo’s. “I’ve always been quite the sucker for a sweet face and some thrills. I won’t hold it against you.”

It wasn’t an answer and the man knew it. His amusement was evident in the quirk of his lips as he spoke, the tap tap tap of his finger against the glass. He knew it wasn’t practical, or even intelligent, but Chrollo found the whole act just this side of charming. If it was an assassination attempt, it was quite the unique choice. 

“My, you’re certainly forward. Keep this up and people are going to start talking.”

Another smile. “I’d love to keep you talking. Care to have a drink somewhere else? Maybe somewhere a bit more private?” The man was turning the charm on full force and it was a tidal wave. A graceful wave of his hand resulted in a full bottle of top shelf scotch and Chrollo stared at it appraisingly. It was certainly an enticing offer, even with the threat of potential violence still unspoken. 

Chrollo spun his glass idly on the damp table top, rubbing along the wood grain. “Is the scotch the only thing on the menu?” he asked, at ease and thoroughly enjoying the song and dance. It wasn’t often he was approached by someone who treated flirting like foreplay. Admirers could be few and far between when status and fear clothed him like a second skin. 

“Anything can happen,” was his reply, the whimsy contagious. 

“Well then, I suppose I can indulge you until you give me a reason to kill you.”

If anything the threat had the man all the more eager. “Fingers crossed.” It was hard to tell to which part he was referring, but Chrollo had his suspicions. 

With that said though, Chrollo found himself gently being led from the bar by a strong hand pressed against his lower back. It was all a bit fast, a bit unwise, but Chrollo couldn’t deny the thrill of it all. Not many people had the courage to approach him, let alone proposition him with what could amount to a fuck or a fight depending on how the night and scotch tasted. 

Chrollo was surprised to find their destination to be an empty room in the building above the bar. Business hours saw it as some office, long abandoned and masquerading as a front for the illegal activities below. He doubted the large desk had ever been used, the stock chairs ever sat in. The family that ran this establishment were known for their thoroughness. It was quiet, private, and a perfect bluff for the contraband being served just beneath their feet; a trademark of the Zoldyck name. No chance of them being discovered regardless of how their dalliance went.  
The door closed behind him and he heard the unmistakable sound of the bottle being opened. Warm arms wrapped around him, offering the scotch to him as a mouth descended on his throat. 

Chrollo took the proffered drink and leaned into the man. He took a pull, savoring the smooth burn. “How long did you have to follow me to learn my favorite brand?” he asked, tangling his fingers into the red hair to pull that mouth closer. He could feel the smile against his damp skin, the teeth skimming his jugular. “Or where I go to be alone?”

“Long enough to realize you’re as beautiful as you are strong,” the man replied, nipping his ear. His hand slid down Chrollo’s waist and found its way to his zipper. One deft movement had Chrollo rolling his hips, his breath already short. 

“You ever gonna give me a name?” he asked, laying his hand over the one at his belt to guide it below the waistband.   
“Wouldn’t want to insult you by calling out nothing.” He could feel the answering laugh all the way down to his toes and another swig from the bottle sent fire chasing the rumble through his veins. 

“Hisoka,” he finally said, stroking Chrollo’s cock. His unoccupied hand began the process of unbuttoning his shirt, taking special care to map out the contours of Chrollo’s chest as he made his way down the line. 

Chrollo hummed, pleased and floating pleasantly on the slow waves of pleasure building alongside the alcohol. He was coaxed out of his jacket and shirt and he turned, pressing Hisoka against the door for a kiss. The bottle was placed on the floor as he began returning the favor, tossing aside Hisoka’s jacket and unbuttoning the vest and shirt beneath. He pressed their hips together and focused his attention on the strong line of Hisoka’s neck. The hands cupping his ass pulled them even closer, lifting him up and in.

“You’re good at this, Hisoka,” Chrollo murmured, rolling the name in his mouth like bourbon. He arched into the hands and moaned when they dug into the flesh.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. This is usually the part where I strangle the ones I don’t like.” Hisoka let Chrollo slip a hand between them to unzip his trousers, letting their cocks just skim at the heads.

If this was an assassination attempt, he could definitely do worse.

Lips grazed his ear and a tongue traced the sensitive shell. “I wonder if all of the Spiders are this trusting.” Hisoka crooned as he teasingly dipped his fingers down Chrollo’s waistband again. “I can’t imagine dear Machi or Phinks being so receptive to a total stranger.”

And just like that, Chrollo was at his throat. There was no reason for this man to know the names of his underlings, not when the inner members were as secretive as they were. They had safeguards in place for a reason, especially after losing a member for that very same reason. Chrollo grabbed for the pen in his pants pocket and aimed for the throat, the bitemarks a flushed target.

Hisoka was ready for it though. A quick movement, too quick to be purely reflex, brought his shoulder up in time to take the stab. If it hurt, it was impossible to tell. 

Before Chrollo could ready another attack, Hisoka smiled and dug his fingers into his skin. It was the only warning he had before Chrollo went flying backwards, thrown bodily onto the desk behind them. The bottle of scotch was sent flying and shattered in a rain of glass and liquor. Chrollo almost allowed himself a moment to mourn. Good booze were worth their weight in gold these days. With any luck, his book had escaped the mess.

Hisoka pinned him down on the desk top, his brilliant yellow eyes alight with arousal and excitement, and brought Chrollo’s attention back to the fight. “Are we on to that portion of the evening? And here I was enjoying the foreplay.” His voice was vibrant and deep, Chrollo feeling it in his chest.

A shimmy brought their hips together and Chrollo thrust into Hisoka’s matching hardness, encouraging him to rut against him. His hands, pinned as they were, flexed beneath Hisoka’s, drawing attention away from his legs. Legs spread, he was able to wrap them around Hisoka’s waist and use the momentum to roll them from the desk. 

They went down with a clatter, nails and fists and teeth aimed at anything within range. Chrollo rolled with the fall and ignored the shattered glass digging into his bare skin, the scotch stinging in the open wounds. The strong hands that had held him in place and touched him so expertly fastened themselves around his throat, their hips grinding into each other mercilessly. He glared and was rewarded with a bruising kiss that he returned whole heartedly. Another roll had Hisoka on his back, thin clothing doing little to protect his skin from the glass. The sweat on his skin stung like fire and for one moment of clarity, Chrollo was concerned they both might ignite. 

Words didn’t have to be exchanged to tell Chrollo to pull out their cocks and add to the already overwhelming friction.   
Hisoka let go of his throat and instead focused his bruising grip on slender hips, letting his tongue take up the fight instead. The change from fighting to fucking was simultaneous, almost imperceptible. Skin tasted of scotch and blood and Chrollo tightened his grip on their members. Hisoka’s mouth tasted like contraband and adrenaline, distracting and enticing with the constant threat he provided. Chrollo couldn’t ever recall being so turned on.

Fingers dug into the patchwork of cuts littering his back. The pain raced like fire along his nerves and Chrollo found himself coming with the scent of sweat and liquor drowning his senses. Hisoka hissed as the stuttering thrusts drove the glass below deeper into his flesh and quickly followed suite, burying his moan in the meat of Chrollo’s shoulder. It was probably revenge for the pen still stabbed through Hisoka’s. 

The new shot of pain brought Chrollo back from his post-orgasmic haze and he quickly pinned Hisoka to the floor by the throat. Hisoka was loathe to squander his afterglow, simply choosing to rest there and watch with a lazy grin on his face. Chrollo stared down at him, thinking for the first time now that the sexual tension was out of the way. Hisoka. He knew that name. It was vague, but familiar.

“You work for me,” Chrollo began, using his free hand to put right his pants. He ignored Hisoka’s sad expression. “We had a position and you’re the one who filled it.”

Hisoka somehow was able to look innocent while covered in blood, glass, and cum. “Why yes, I certainly did.” He traced his fingers along the deep bruises on Chrollo’s hipbones and was rewarded with more pressure on his throat. “I’m sorry I missed the welcome party, but I think this made up for it.”

“Is there a reason you thought it intelligent to stalk and attack me?”

“I didn’t do it to be intelligent, Boss. I did it because you looked like you could use a drink and a helping hand. That and I felt we deserved a proper introduction,” he answered, grin unreadable and hands still wandering. It was obvious he didn’t feel threatened at all by the hand clamped down on his trachea. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy yourself?”

Chrollo stared down at him, silent. It wasn’t an answer. The entire night he hadn’t gotten a straight answer. He had a name and a cadre of unanswered questions and an expensive bottle of scotch evaporating on his skin. The hands ran warm fingers along his bare skin and he shivered. The cuts bled sluggishly and Chrollo slowly smiled into the proffered kiss.

“Welcome to the Spiders, Hisoka.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just churning these things out. Gotta wonder how I ever finish my schoolwork. Anyway, I plan on doing at least two more fics in this universe, I've got some ideas for some pretty great things and you really don't understand how much I love prohibition and organized crime. Thanks to brocon-the-destroyer for beta-ing and the Hisoka aid. Check me out on tumblr (terminallydepraved) and feel free to leave a comment! I really love seeing everybody's feedback. See you next time!


End file.
